


auribus teneo lupum

by stonerjohnlaurens



Series: History Obliterates (The Modern Hamilton Universe) [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Choking, Enthusiastic Consent, Face Slapping, Honestly What The Fuck Is This, Latin because WOW did you know that Hamilton was good at Latin and John was not?, M/M, Pain Kink, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Swearing, Tattoos, The Author Feels Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerjohnlaurens/pseuds/stonerjohnlaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John notices the tattoo as soon as Alexander’s shirt is off. They’re both already naked otherwise. Alex only kept his shirt on for some sense of suspense. He hadn’t shown anyone the tattoo yet.</p><p>“That’s new,” John mumbles out, staring at the verse over Alex’s left pec. </p><p>--<br/>Hamilton is a glutton for punishment, and Laurens doesn't fully understand that. But when he does, it's everything they both needed and then some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	auribus teneo lupum

John notices the tattoo as soon as Alexander’s shirt is off. They’re both already naked otherwise. Alex only kept his shirt on for some sense of suspense. He hadn’t shown anyone the tattoo yet.

“That’s new,” John mumbles out, staring at the verse over Alex’s left pec. He’s preoccupied with Alexander’s warmth shrouding his knuckles. Alexander hisses at the intrusion, almost regretting his request for a painful start. No, he wants this, he reconciles with himself. Asked John personally. John had thrust three of his fingers in Alexander’s mouth seconds ago, demanded he wet them with his own saliva. “Suck,” He said so eloquently, and Alexander obeyed.

The spit was a new idea though, Alex’s idea, as aforementioned. Usually they splurged for lube to ensure for the most comfortable experience but, alas, Alex was not a stranger to uncomfortable situations. The slight sting of the too-fast insertion was just enough to keep Alex grounded, make him feel something for once. This is his intention, he knows that. He knows John can provide the pain he craves. John winces when he first dives in, not wanting to hurt Alex, despite his friend’s personal requesting, near _begging –_

It’s one of the things Alex hates about John, his feigned innocence. He enjoyed this just as much as he did, goddamn it, and the nice act was getting to be too much. Not even just in sexual matters, no, John’s nice-guy act was starting to transfer into his everyday demeanor. The stupid tone he took on when talking to others, as if he’s some kind of sweet Southerner who just wants to see peace and happiness or whatever in the world. Alex rolls his eyes every time he does it. John’s no angel, no philanthropist. He probably wouldn’t mind it as much if it wasn’t that same stupid fucking smile that bite into his neck almost every night, that spoke dirty insults into his skin and ravished his body like a wild animal.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts,” John says sternly. Alex ignores that. It hurts, good. Of course it fucking hurts when you shove three fingers in someone’s asshole with very little lubricant, that’s the _goddamned point._

They’ve discussed this before. Stop means stop, no means no, blah blah. Otherwise, keep going. It warmed his heart that John was so concerned (faux-concerned?) about Alex’s wellbeing, but that’s not what he needs right now.

“When will you drop this ruse, ah?” Alexander manages out. He says this and then does something between a hybrid of pity-laughter and pleasure-moaning. “Acting like you don’t like hurting me, fuckin’ poser.”

“Tell me to stop,” John repeats, breath more labored now. “if it hurts _too much._ ”

John fucks his fingers into Alex hard, not hard enough for Alex’s taste but it’s okay for now.

Alex knows he needs to get John riled up to get what he wants. Needs to piss him off, egg him on.

An opportunity presents itself as John is (reluctantly) easing his fingers out of Alex. He climbs on top of him. “What’s it say?”

“What?”

“The tattoo,” John’s lining himself up now, no condom on. Alex hadn’t been fucked by anyone else in the past few months, and he protected himself with all other encounters. His doctor had assured him that he was clean, and he definitely praised modern medicinal efforts when he saw John was clean too. This was something he wanted to do with John first, John before anyone else, and he wasn’t in the least bit disappointed when he bottomed out.

“Move,” Alex whined. _Stop being soft on me._

John obliged slowly – _too slow –_ and repeated the question.

“It’s a line from Latin poetry,” Alex replies, struggles because John is actually speeding up as he answers. “ _Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo_.”

Pronunciation’s rusty, but if his groan is any indication, John doesn’t notice. Hamilton wants to correct himself -- his inflection on _si_ is misplaced, the word begins in a spondee, it should’ve been dragged out a bit more to be accurate – but he’s unraveling under John’s weight. His mind is turning mush, and he can barely remember what led to this. John touch should be weaponized, registered by the goddamned military. The mere brush of John’s hands over the chest ink leaves Alex’s mouth ajar, tiny noises being pushed out him with every thrust. Their scents are clashing and intermingling, the aroma of sex coating them like a tight suffocating cloud.

“Shit, that’s…” John’s mouthing at Alex’s neck now, one hand on his hip, one still grazing at the fresh tattoo. “That’s hot. Sounds like demonic incantations or some shit.”

“Fuck. Again, there,” Alex says after one particularly feverish snap of John’s hips. He does it again while tugging at the nipple under the tattoo. The ink still stings, it’s fresh. The pain’s a delicious combination. Alex bucks up, his cock making contact with John’s sculpted stomach.

“You’re insatiable, baby girl,” John speaks into Alex’s neck. It’s damp with lovebites and licks and condensation from John’s panting. He clamps his teeth down onto the side of his neck, and Alex cries out. He’s so thankful for John, so thankful he’s finally getting into the swing on things.

“Yes,” Alex agrees. He can feel a bead of precum threatening to spill from his dick.

“Disgusting, you’re just disgusting, you fucking whore, you love this don’t you? God, what’s wrong with you?” He moved his mouth to the nipple he previously framed with his pinching digits. Bites just as hard as he did on Alex’s neck, relentless, sloppy, violent.

Alex grunts sharply, his hand now pushing John’s head into his chest, his fuzzy weakened grip barely grasping at his ponytail, encouraging him to bite _harder, leave an open wound for God’s sake,_ and John hasn’t stopped his pace. He’s found Alex’s prostate now and he’s pounding into it.

“Fuck, keep talking to me please, John, _fuck, --_ ” Alex grinds his hips into John’s thrusting, their speed uncoordinated.” _Please, call me baby girl again, please, I want you to use me, please –_

That’s when the slap hits, after he mouths off that last time. John’s lifts his head from Alex’s chest and strikes him quickly, forcing Alex to shut up. The shame of arousal rises in Alex’s face, he’s red and hot, the hand mark on his face nearly blends in with the rest of him. Alex coughs – hacks – in surprise, gasps, his cock jerks involuntarily, the bead of precum increasing to a slick stream. It starts leaking from the tip, some sliding upward onto John.

“Shut up,” John growls. Alex’s mind is debilitated; whatever quip that sat on his tongue to fire off had vanished, his composure fried. He might as well be comatose, maybe he’d be more useful that way. Right now he’s just a vessel for John to get off, a fuck toy, a place for John to spend himself and leave.

He bites his own lip. He feels so flush with humiliation he barely notices his teeth break the skin there.

John notices and licks the indention clean, replacing Alex’s teeth with his own. Alex feels bad for moaning so loudly after John just commanded his silence, but he can’t help it.

The pain is too much in the best possible way. John’s biting, the way he’s fucking him, the scabbing tattoo on his chest, it’s all too much.

“John…” He trails off before he can finish his plea, remembering he has to stay quiet. In response, John’s hand rises to Alex’s throat, squeezing lightly. John uses his other hand to hoist Alex’s leg up on his shoulder now, ramming into his prostate at the perfect angle, the sounds too tantalizing. The skin-slapping, the incessant creaking of the bed underneath them, the tiny grunts John’s making. Alex starts to gasp and babble under the grip over his neck, something akin to “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t –”

He comes suddenly, the orgasm hitting him like a physical object, spurting all over John’s chest and abdomen. The mess is highlighted by Alex’s strangled _scream_. John stops when the ejaculate hits him, his face twisted up into a scowl.

“I didn’t fucking tell you to do that.” He says, suddenly getting off of Alexander. A flash of something sinister crosses John’s face, and Alex wishes he could say he’s not into it, that he’s completely spent and wants it all to stop. But he doesn’t. He sucks in a sharp breath and nods at John. John sits up and leans back on his heels, strokes at himself lazily. Alex follows suit, puts his head to John’s chest.

“You didn’t, you didn’t, I’m _sorry –”_

John yanks his chin up so they’re face-to-face, slaps Alexander across the face so hard his ears are ringing, tears dotting the corners of his eyes. John is barking something cruel at him but he can barely hear him, he’s so far gone, so far gone.

The slap seems to shatter Alex’s refractory period as he’s hardening again, and of course John comments on it. Berates him for enjoying this so much.

John guides Alex’s face down to his moistened cock, and Alex follows with no hesitation. John quickens his hand and full-on fucks his fist, the wet slit of his dick only centimeters from Alex’s face. Alex is crying from it all, his mind completely shut down, focused only on John’s hand and John’s dick and John’s insults and John and John and John. He opens his mouth in preparation, eyes closed, tongue lolling out slightly.

John screws his eyes shut and comes on Alex’s face. Semen’s dripping from the center of his visage from his nose and landing so softly on his palate. Alex leans in closer to collect every drop that doesn’t come out with the initial release, his newly-swollen lips dutifully thanking John for all of it, every part of it, and John is sighing compliments now, telling Alex how good he is, how well he did, how fucking beautiful his baby girl looks cleaning him up like this.

John reaches for Alex’s oversensitive erection, strokes him off as fast as he can, pressing praise into the skin on his neck. Alex comes again, weaker than the first but still just as tiring, and collapses onto the bed. John follows suit and fall next to him. They’re both much too hot to lie atop each other, so they just cohabitate the dorm bed, gasping for breath wildly.

A few minutes pass and John’s kissing his come off of Alex’s face. “Was that good, baby girl?”

“Nothing about you is _good_. You're terrible and it's wonderful.” And they smile.

**Author's Note:**

> The tattoo Hamilton has, I'm getting the same one. Probably on my back.  
> I can't believe i found a way to quote two of my favorite writers of antiquity while writing things like this. What the fuck.  
> Peep that word count tho.
> 
> tumblr: actualjohnlaurens  
> twitter: @gayjohnlaurens


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